Mistakes

One mistake.

One mistake is all it takes, to break every bone in my body.

Every bodily function, undone by the eruption of emotions that I project.

If given another chance, to enhance my presence, I would do so with perfection.

After learning my lesson, of breaking bonds that are tied by tubes and having my pride around as a crutch for my insecurities to use, I would love the dove that flies through my memories.

The memorandum of me living.

Living life without strife and holding that knife that always slips through my hands, cutting the man who created me, the one who is now sleeping in the ground below me and begging me to let him out.

The one who cries the tears of the awaken baby in the dark room of eternity.

The baby who without paternity can only depend on maternity, which later turns into the hatred of man.

Not willing to be lesbian, too prideful to be submissive, comprehensive enough to not be foolish, yet oblivious to the chain placed in range of her fate, waiting for her to break.

She sits.

I sit.

Wondering, pondering, hindered by my past and its concerns, that tend to burn my future.

She laughs.

I laugh at the thought of me being brought undeniably by society.

Living so pridefully in a world meant to confuse me.

Choose me.

That's all I want.

I was created with this ruler inside of me, controlling me, pulling me to the dark side, the other side of the rainbow.

Where did my rain go?

The waters that flow through me.

Like the river that got my roots home.

Home.

Is home where you live or where your family stays?

Is it where you pray or in order to live there you have to pay?

Pay the price of your consequences, your flawed sentences, and your raw remembrances of mistakes you made.

Mistake.

One mistake is all it takes to break every bone in my body.